


Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

by tylermoody



Series: The Slytherin Trio [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Chamber of Secrets AU, Even Worse Dursley's, F/M, Good Slytherins, Harry and Professor Snape (BFFL), M/M, Nice Malfoys, Slytherin! Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 03:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7741045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylermoody/pseuds/tylermoody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys! So if you follow my HPATMWTF (the first part of this series) I've decided to restart from the second book and I'll go back later and fix the first book because I'm a mess.</p><p>Because I've started again there's somethings that seem to have been happening for a while that haven't actually happened in my re-edited version of HPATMWTF.</p><p>That being said, I hope this isn't too much of a filler chapter and isn't too boring and any suggestions or changes are welcome.</p><p>I don't own anything FYI just incase. I hope you guys like it!</p><p>- T x</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. I'll Be In My Room

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So if you follow my HPATMWTF (the first part of this series) I've decided to restart from the second book and I'll go back later and fix the first book because I'm a mess.
> 
> Because I've started again there's somethings that seem to have been happening for a while that haven't actually happened in my re-edited version of HPATMWTF.
> 
> That being said, I hope this isn't too much of a filler chapter and isn't too boring and any suggestions or changes are welcome.
> 
> I don't own anything FYI just incase. I hope you guys like it!
> 
> \- T x

Harry Potter sat at the dining table across from his Uncle Vernon, chewing slowly on the slice of toast the Dursley's had allowed him to eat. Uncle Vernon was in a foul mood, like he'd usually be in the morning, narrowing his eyes at Harry and huffing at anything Aunt Petunia tried to say. She tried to create conversation about Dudley, his pig of a cousin who leant over his plate shovelling piles of bacon and sausages into his ginormous mouth, but it fell silent over the sound of the knives and forks clacking against the white, floral plates.

  
"I want more bacon." Dudley belched, wiping his oily mouth with a napkin, his grubby fingers smearing it across is face in a stuttered motion.

  
"There's more in the pan, sweetie," replied Aunt Petunia instantly, looking at him with beady eyes of affection. "We have to build you up while your home. I don't like the sound of that school foo-"

  
"Oh, rubbish! I never once went hungry when I was at Smeltings," interrupted Uncle Vernon proudly. "Dudley gets plenty of food, don't you son?"

  
All the attention turned to Dudley, who's grin was partly seen between his two fat cheeks that wobbled when he turned to look at Harry. "Pass the frying pan."

  
"You forgot the magic word," said Harry irritably.

 

Harry didn't realise what he had done until a collective gasp from the Dursley's instantly aided in the realisation of his mistake.  
Within a few seconds: Dudley laid flat on the floor, the chair snapped underneath him as the room shook slightly, enough for all the pictures of his cousin to lean towards the left; Aunt Petunia shrieked, clapping her hands over her mouth in horror. The worst reaction by far, was Uncle Vernon's. He stood angrily, face a dark purple as the anger radiated off him in waves that Harry could almost physically see. He leaned forward over the table, fist plummeting into the wood as veins began to throb across his forehead.

  
"I meant please," Harry squeaked quickly and quietly. "I didn't mea-"

  
"WHAT HAVE INTOLD YOU?!" Uncle Vernon thundered. "YOU KNOW MOT TO SAY THAT WORD IN THIS HOUSE!"

  
"But I onl-"

  
"HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!" he bellowed, slamming his fist into the table again.

  
"I just-"

  
"I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY MENTION OF YOUR SILLY ABNORMALITY!"

  
Uncle Vernon raised his hand and connected it to the side of Harry's face. The smack echoed and the stinging sensation begun instantly as Harry looked at the ground in shock. Harry peered up at his now slightly less purple Uncle then to his pale Aunt, who tried busying herself by trying to heave a wailing Dudley off the floor.

 

Uncle Vernon sat down, breathing heavily as if he ran down the street for the first time in twenty five years, watching Harry closely and cautiously out of the corner of his stubby eyes. Ever since Harry had to come back for the summer holidays, the Dursley's were anything but welcoming and accepting of his return. Harry Potter was a wizard, a wizard who just returned from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
Harry missed his school. He missed the castle, the hidden passageways, the ghosts, his classes, Owl Post, eating in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the Dungeons, visiting Hagrid on Friday's and playing Quidditch. But most of all he missed his friends. Draco and Pansy in particular. He would undoubtedly have every class with Draco Malfoy who Harry would say was his closest friend. He spent all his time with Draco, in and out of school. Harry also missed Professor Snape, the potions master at Hogwarts. Since the Dursley's picked Harry up from Kings Cross Station, they locked all of his spellbooks, wand, robes, cauldron and his Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick in Dudley's second bedroom, along with Hedwig who Harry saw once a day to check on. The Dursley's didn't care if Harry lost his place on the Slytherin Quidditch team or come fifth place in his grade. He was content with coming second to Hermione Granger, the brightest witch Harry had the pleasure to meet. He had promised Professor Snape that he would read 'A Hundred Uses of Herbology' to help him with Potions ingredients. The Dursley's didn't care if Harry went back having done nothing at all.

The Dursley's were muggles and as far as they were concerned, having a wizard in the family was a complete and utter shame. Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Hedwig inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the wizarding world; incase Harry got out of his room under the stairs. It wasn't just Harry being a wizard that embarrassed the Dursley's, it was also his scar that made Harry so particularly unusual, even for a wizard. The scar was the only hint of Harry’s past, of the reason he had been left on the Dursleys’ doorstep eleven years before. He had spent ten years with his Aunt and Uncle, never understanding why he kept making odd things happen without meaning to, believing the story that he had got his scar in the car crash that had killed both his parents.  
And then, exactly a year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry. A school for wizards and witches alike that he had spent learning about a world he only dreamt about. But now the school year was over, and he was back with the Dursley's for the summer, back to being treated like a freak. The Dursley's didn't even remember that today, the 31st of July, happened to be Harry’s birthday. Harry didn't have any expectations for his birthday; but to ignore it completely, especially after what his Uncle had just done to him wasn't exactly usual. It's not as if Harry wasn't used to it, the treatment he got whenever he did accidental magic or made Uncle Vernon's coffee hotter than usual was always a punishment.

 

But at that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, “Now, as we all know, today is a very important day.”

  
Harry looked up in utter disbelief, shaken from his thoughts.

  
“This could be the biggest deal of my entire career!"

  
Harry went back to his toast which was now cold and dry, bitter and disappointed that his Uncle chose now to talk about his stupid dinner party. He’d been talking about nothing else for two weeks.

  
“I think we should run through the schedule one more time,” said Uncle Vernon, a smirk crossing his round face as he looked over at Harry. “We should all be in position at eight o’clock. Petunia, you will be?”

  
“In the lounge,” she said quickly, arms gesturing widely in a forward motion. “waiting to welcome them warmly to our home.”

  
“Very good. And Dudley?”

  
“I’ll be waiting to open the door.” he said poshly, standing up straight with his pig nose turned up in the air. “May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?”

  
“Oh, Duddy!” cried Aunt Petunia dramatically.

  
“Excellent, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon proudly. Then focusing on Harry. “And you?”

  
“I’ll be in my bedroom, making no noise,” said Harry tonelessly. "Pretending I don't exist."

  
“Exactly,” hissed Uncle Vernon. “I will lead them into the lounge and introduce you."  
He stood and moved around the table, pointing to Aunt Petunia as they all played along.  
"Then pour them drinks. At eight- fifteen —”

  
“I’ll announce dinner,” cut Aunt Petunia pointedly.

  
“And, Dudley, you’ll say —”

  
“May I take you through to the dining room, Mrs. Mason?” said Dudley, offering his fat, flabby arm to an invisible Mrs. Mason who would most likely smile politely and nod. Harry instantly thought of Draco and Pansy laughing at Dudley, the way he ridiculously tried to hold the position before tiredly lowering his arm.

  
“My beautiful little boy!” sobbed Aunt Petunia and Harry had the urge to roll his eyes.

  
“And you?” snarled Uncle Vernon harshly to Harry.

  
“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I don't exist.” said Harry dumbly, bored with this whole situation.

  
“Precisely." he said, content with Harry knowing his place.

  
"Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?”

  
“Vernon tells me you’re a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason." Aunt Petunia shrilled. "Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason!"  
She batted her eyelashes in a horrendous way that would make Pansy gag and Draco hurl.

  
“Perfect, Dudley?”

  
“How about," Dudley poked his tongue out of his mouth, a face that made him look like a Jack-o-Lantern carved out for Halloween. "‘We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.’ ”

  
This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry tried to stop himself from laughing.

  
“And you, boy?”

  
Harry fought to keep his face straight as he looked at his Uncle.

  
“I’ll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I’m not there."

  
“Too right, you will,” Uncle Vernon said forcefully. “The Mason's don’t know anything about you and it’s going to stay that way. When dinner’s over, you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, and I’ll bring the subject around to drills. With any luck, I’ll have the deal signed and sealed before the news at ten."

  
"Right," he clapped two large hands together in a bellowing snap. "I’m off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you,” he spat at Harry. Coming in close and gripping his face tightly and jerking it forward. “You stay out of your aunt’s way while she’s cleaning.”

 

  
Harry left through the back door, rubbing his jaw in an effort to ease the slight tension Uncle Vernon created there. It was a wonderfully sunny day. He crossed neatly mowed lawn, careful to avoid any visible footprint, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:

  
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me-”

  
No cards, no presents, and he would be spending the evening pretending not to exist. He gazed miserably into the hedge. He had never felt so lonely. More than anything else at Hogwarts, more even than playing Quidditch, Harry missed his best friends. They, however, didn’t seem to be missing him at all. Neither Draco or Pansy had written to him all summer, even though Narcissa insisted he stay for a while.  
Countless times, Harry had been on the point of unlocking Hedwig’s cage by magic and sending her to Draco and Pansy with a letter, but it wasn’t worth it. Underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry so desperately wanted to hear from the, even reserve confirmation it was all real. But the long silence from Draco and Pansy had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal. And Harry thought it never would.

“I know what day it is,” sang Dudley, waddling toward

  
“What?” said Harry.

  
“I know what day it is."

  
“Congratulations,” said Harry. “So you’ve finally learned the days of the week.”

  
He'd learnt so much sarcasm from Professor Snape and Draco that it almost came naturally to Harry. In a way that could get him in trouble.

  
“Today’s your birthday,” sneered Dudley. “How come you haven’t got any cards? Haven’t you even got friends at that freak place?”

  
“Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school,” said Harry dryly.

  
Dudley smirked and ran inside, as fast as his fat, stubby legs could carry him. Harry paid dearly for his moment of sarcasm, having to duck as Aunt Petunia aimed a heavy blow at his head with the soapy frying pan, swinging until it collided with the back of his head. Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn’t eat again until he’d finished.  
While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and re- painted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry knew he shouldn’t have risen to Dudley’s bait, but Dudley had said the very thing Harry had been thinking himself, feeling embarrassed about what his friends would say if they saw him like this.

  
It was past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted and drained, Harry heard Aunt Petunia calling him.

  
“Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!”

  
Harry moved carefully into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets that hid the pudding for tonight. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven and Harry's mouth watered severely from the smell of the glaze.

  
“Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!” snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress and stomped around the kitchen. Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper, swallowing dry clumps of bread and cheese. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. “To your room! Hurry!”

  
As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the door to his cupboard when the door- bell rang and Harry was pushed up against the cupboard, face hitting the vent as Uncle Vernon hurried him inside, locking the door behind him. Harry was submerged in darkness, waiting until the Mason's were out of sight before turning his light on.

  
“Remember, boy." Uncle Vernon sneered quietly and then marched back into the living room while Dudley opened the door.

  
Harry released a sigh, curling in on himself as he heard the front door open. But when an odd whirl and snapping sound happened in his cupboard he sat up quickly, forcing Harry to knock his head in the process.

  
"Dobby?" Harry asked, rubbing his forehead. "What are you doing here?"


	2. Where Is He?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets an unexpected visit from someone in the magic world. But even though their intentions are in the right place, their actions land Harry in an awful situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So this is a bit longer than the last chapter and hopefully not as boring. I actually had a bit of difficulties with writing this.
> 
> On the first book of this series I asked about harsher, worser Durlseys and hopefully it's believable. I'm a little worried about it tbh
> 
> Other than that I hope you guys like it and let me know if you have any opinions or suggestions 
> 
> \- T x

Harry looked at the elf in confusion, slightly bewildered but also glad to see him. He'd missed Dobby; the little house-elf with elongated, wing-like ears and eyes that appeared too big for his little head. As Harry was about to speak, Dudley's voice echoed through the hall.

"Good evening, Mr. And Mrs. Mason, may I take your coats?"

  
Dobby looked excitedly at Harry, waddling around the bed and hopping from foot to foot. Making his ears flap as the elf grinned at him.

  
"Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked.

  
"Er-hello?" responded Harry, who was still a little surprised.

  
"So long since Dobby has seen you sir, so very long indeed." the elf nodded vigorously before taking in his surroundings. "Harry Potter has a very small room. Even Dobby has more space than this."

  
Harry blinked and then huffed out a small laugh. "What are you doing here?"

  
"Dobby has come with a message."

  
"Oh, really?" said Harry, already wondering what it could be. But just as Harry was to ask what this message was, Aunt Petunia's high pitched, incredibly false laugh could be heard from the living room.

  
"Er-" Harry began in a whisper. "Now's not a good time, Dobby."  
The house-elf began to cry, a long wail that was extremely loud and noisy.

  
"Not that I'm not glad to see you!" Harry said quickly.

  
Dobby's bright green eyes lit up, as the elf looked at him hopefully.

  
"Sit down, Dobby." Harry said exasperatedly, already wishing this conversation was over. Harry was worried Dobby had came to tell him that Draco didn't want to be friends anymore, his mind racing rapidly as the elf happily plopped down next to him.

  
"Dobby has come to Harry Potter on the request of Master Draco."  
Harry looked at the creature, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as his mouth opened and closed.

  
"He asked Dobby to ask Harry Potter why he hasn't been returning his letters..."  
Dobby trailed off at the confused look on Harry's face, Harry hadn't received any letters from anyone. And now he had an over enthusiastic house-elf in his cupboard telling him otherwise.

  
"I haven't gotten any letters, Dobby." Harry explained.

  
"Master Draco insists he owled them," Dobby said quietly but affirmative. "Harry Potter knows how Master Draco gets."

  
Harry smiled softly, an overwhelming feeling of absence consumed him.  
All the chairs scraped across the floor and the cutlery clanked onto the plates. Harry had forgotten for a moment he was locked inside his cupboard whilst the Dursley's entertained their guests.

  
"Harry Potter, sir," Dobby began slowly, a little timid in a way that seemed as if he'd rather not say what the elf was thinking. "Why is Harry Potter not out there with his family?"

  
Harry sighed, a deep low groan. "They don't want me to be out there."

  
Dobby gasped, as if the thought shocked him to the point his eyes bulged out of his skull.

  
" _D-don't want....Harry Potter?_ " Dobby howled. Standing up and running to the wall and collapsing against it, then repeatedly banged his head against the wood frames.

  
Harry, trying to say “Shh!” and look comforting at the same time, patted Dobby awkwardly on the back, lightly of course so he didn't push the elf. Dobby sat back down trying to control himself with his eyes fixed on Harry. It was eerily silent. The entire house void of conversation that Harry only just realised. Suddenly, Uncle Vernon's booming voice called and Harry's eyes widened in a panic.

  
"Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

  
"Dobby, you have to go." Harry whispered harshly, looking at the elf pleadingly.

  
The various locks on the outside were being unhooked, chains rattling before the door swung open and Uncle Vernon's face was close to Harry's.

  
"What the _devil_ are you doing?" Uncle Vernon spat through gritted teeth, trying to remain as quiet as possible as Aunt Petunia shrilled away on the living room. "You’ve just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke. One more sound and you’ll wish you’d never been born, boy!"

  
Uncle Vernon shut the door, locked it and walked away before Harry had the chance to breathe.

 

 

"Is Harry Potter okay?"

  
Harry looked at the elf, who looked back sadly. Ears folded over, making him look like some sort of hairless puppy. A few moments passed; Harry who sat there, suddenly aware of the slight pain from when Uncle Vernon hit him earlier and from being slammed into his cupboard door. Dobby, whose head snapped up, eyes bright and a sly grin spread across his face.

  
"Harry Potter, sir. Dobby has an idea."

  
Harry didn't like the look on Dobby's face, he'd seen it before when the elves would play pranks on each other and Harry gulped.

  
"Dobby," Harry warned.

  
"Harry Potter mustn't worry."

  
"They'll throw me out," Harry begged, knowing that Dobby was hard to convince when the elf had his mind made up.

  
"Thats the plan, sir."

  
With a click of the elf's fingers, the locks on Harry's cupboard released and the elf sprung to his feet and pushed the door open. Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to make a sound as if he were approaching a sleeping dragon. From the living room Harry heard Uncle Vernon talking loudly.

  
"Tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She’s been dying to hear it!" He barked. "Then we'll have dessert!"

  
Harry ran quickly up the hall and into the kitchen, feeling his stomach drop at what he saw.  
Aunt Petunia’s pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared flowers, was floating up near the ceiling.

  
“No,” croaked Harry desperately. “Please, they’ll kill me.”

  
Harry watched as the pudding inched closer and closer to the doorway of the kitchen, struggling to find a way out of this.

  
"Harry Potter must trust Dobby."

"Dobby don-"

"It's for Harry Potter's own good."

  
The elf nodded, his final answer and Harry knew then he was in trouble. Before he could move the pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered, and with a loud crack, Dobby vanished.  
There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia’s pudding.  
At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. But he shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, and focused on Harry.

  
"I warned you, boy. I'm going to flay the living daylights out of you." Uncle Vernon said clearly, it took all Harry had to not look away and gulp. He pushed a mop into Harry's side, making him stumble a bit and hold onto the door frame to keep balanced.  
Aunt Petunia began digging through the freezer to make sundaes, ignoring Harry completely as he started cleaning the kitchen, still shaking from shock.

Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal, if it hadn’t been for the owl. Aunt Petunia stood in the living room, offering the Masons mints when a huge, tan, barn owl swooped in and dropped a letter on top of Mrs. Mason. It squawked loudly and flew back out the way it came. Mrs. Mason shrieked, a scream that could rival Aunt Petunia's, before running through the front door. Mr. Mason looked at where his wife had been. An unsettling silence floated around the room he looked at the Dursley's.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Mr Mason asked. "My wife is mortality terrified of birds of any shape or size."

  
He left with a disapproving glare at Uncle Vernon before grabbing his coat and walking out the door his wife ran through. Harry stood in the kitchen, partially cleaning whilst using the mop for support. He looked up when the Dursley's walked in, Uncle Vernon thundering angrily as he waved the letter the owl delivered.

  
He threw it at Harry, who picked it up and inspected it.

  
"Go on," Uncle Vernon hissed. "Read it."

  
Harry unfolded the letter, disappointed it wasn't a birthday card.

 

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_  
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.  
As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).  
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.  
Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely,  
Mafalda Hopkirk  
Improper Use of Magic Office  
Ministry of Magic

 

Harry looked up from the letter, not daring to say a word.

  
“You didn’t tell us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside school,” said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. “Forgot to mention it, boy?.”

  
He was bearing down on Harry like a dog to a bone, anger and glee evident by the look on his round face.

  
“Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m locking you up and you’re never going back to that school." Uncle Vernon smirked at Harry while Dudley and Aunt Petunia peered at him from behind his shoulders. "And if you try and magic yourself out, they’ll expel you!”

  
And laughing hysterically, he dragged Harry by the hair and locked him in his cupboard.

 

 

The next day, Uncle Vernon himself fitted a cat-flap in the cupboard door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside twice a day, even adding about four more locks to the door. They let Harry out to use the bathroom morning and evening which in that time he was allowed to check on Hedwig. Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.

Three days later, the Dursley's were showing no sign of relenting, and Harry couldn’t see any way out of his situation. A week later, Harry was consistently tired and spent his days laying on his bed, staring at the dark space around him. Every time he had been let out by Aunt Petunia, Dudley wasn't too far behind. It was his mission to use his fat fists to rocket into Harry's body every chance he got. He'd at least trip Harry, kick him, punch him and one time even spitting on him. Harry could feel the grazes and cuts from where he landed on the tiles and carpet, the bruises from various hits and the swelling of his eye from when Dudley pushed him into the wall.  
Life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low and Harry's only comfort was the bracelet from the Malfoys. He would wear it every chance he got, having hidden it under the floorboard beneath his bed. Knowing full well that the Dursleys would have taken it from him immediately.

The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunia’s hand appeared, pushing a bowl of canned soup into the cupboard. Harry, whose insides were aching with hunger, jumped off his bed and seized it. The soup was stone-cold, but he drank half of it in one gulp. Supposing Harry was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if he didn’t turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why he hadn’t come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let him go?

Exhausted and Hungry, Harry slipped on the Malfoys bracelet, deciding it was a good enough time to sleep. It had been two weeks since Dobby tried helping and Harry, as upset as he was, couldn't bring himself to blame the elf. The Durlseys were looking for an excuse to do this to him. So Harry tried to rest, slipping into an uneasy sleep. But something woke him up, interrupting his sleep to a bright green light illuminating from his bracelet, making the room glow. Harry stared at it in wonder, the bracelet dangling around his thin wrists. But Harry was sure he heard something, which was surprising considering he could hear Uncle Vernon yelling at the television. It sounded like a whip cracking. Harry looked back at the bracelet, still glowing just as brightly when he heard a voice call out.

"Bombarda!"

The house shook and rattled as an explosion rung out of Harry's ears. A surge of warmth came from the bracelet. He could hear the Dursleys run to the hallway, Dudley whining about something as Uncle Vernon shushed him. Harry pressed up against the cupboard door, straining to hear anything but silence. But a voice cut through clearly. A voice Harry knew well.

  
"Where is he? Where's Harry?"

  
Narcissa Malfoy didn't hold back, Harry could hear the anger in her voice. And for the first time in his life, Harry almost felt bad for the Durlseys. You never mess with a Malfoy.


End file.
